Thursday, May 27, 2010

Flimsy Whimsies

Hey you. Yes, you. You're like a bad habit. You're my little secret habit.


Win me over with Words. Bowl me over with Memories. And I'm yours.

 
Pick up where we left off.


Dream about that castle in the sky, build it any way we want and defy gravity. Furnish it like money is non-existent and the world is ours.


Let's escape to somewhere full of clouds, blue skies, green meadows with a winking sun peeking out from behind a tall forest.


Turn that into a quiet, old, smoky bar, dimly lit, with sultry jazz and some bottles of red. We could take turns at picking them.


When we wake up, let's jet off to Paris and have freshly baked croissants, with whipped cream, fresh fruit, with shots of black coffee.


Take a walk in an art gallery, and discuss what the painters ate for breakfast, lunch and dinner the day before.


Catch a movie, in a language we don't understand one bit, just so we can sit through a silent movie without any silence.


Read Oscar Wilde with champagne and come up with drunken wittisicms of our own.


Bungee-jump together into an ocean full of sunlight and wishful thinking.


Drift away on a lake, with your guitar and my ukulele just to get inspired.


Eat like a pig, laugh like a fool and live like a dream.


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